


Late At Night

by kuro



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Drinking, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro/pseuds/kuro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can't sleep because the person living in the apartment over him makes a racket every single night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve is desperately trying to sleep, but it seems that tonight, once more, he is out of luck. Just when he had lain down, brought his pillow into the right position, and had managed to get his bed warmed up just nicely, the noise in the apartment above his starts up again.

He’s not one to complain quickly, oh no. He never had the luxury of getting spoiled, he’s used to noisy surroundings and piss poor architecture that left no privacy for yourself or anyone else.

But he has college, and then he has a job to pay for college. In between, there’s not much time left for himself. And most of what little time he actually has, he uses for sleeping, because he knows just how important a regular night’s sleep is. Only he hasn’t had many restful nights, recently.

Sighing, he gets out of bed once more, quietly deliberating whether he should really go up and complain about the constant noise or not. Bucky would tell him that he is being his usual stubborn, quarrelsome ass, but Bucky is not here. And even Bucky knows to fear a Steve with a distinct lack of sleep.

So eventually, he steps into a ratty pair of sweatpants, not bothering to slip into anything but the Captain America nightshirt (prank gift, courtesy of Sam) he is already wearing, and sets off to find the source of the noise.

It’s not actually difficult to locate the source, because the building is old, its best times already long gone by, and the insulation is frankly shit. He had to hang woollen blankets in front of the windows in the winter, or all the warmth inside his room would simply evaporate and leave him freezing. So, now he’s standing in front of a door, the same rickety old door that every apartment in this house has, the only thing setting it apart being the number 505 smack in the centre of it. He should have known it’s the apartment right above his own, 405, because that’s just his luck.

He knocks because the doorbells don’t work. The noise doesn’t stop, though, and no one comes to open the door. He tries knocking harder, but again, nothing happens. In fact, the noise seems to get louder. Pissed off now, Steve starts hammering at the door and doesn’t stop until _finally_ , the inside of the apartment goes completely silent.

The next moment, the door is ripped open rather forcefully. A young man appears in the door frame. He’s around his age, Steve would guess, with wild, dark hair and dirt streaked all over his face and clothes.

“What the fuck?” Mr. Neighbour shouts without giving Steve a chance to even open his mouth. “What’s your problem, asshole?”

Steve has to take a deep breath and remind himself that starting an actual fight in the hallway in the middle of the night just isn’t worth it.

“My problem,” Steve calmly (or as calmly as he can manage) states, “is that you’ve been making a huge racket ever damn night for three weeks. I want to sleep. Soon, I’ll reach the point where I’ll do anything just to be able to sleep one night in heavenly silence.”

The guy stares at him for a moment, apparently rendered speechless. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Steve replies. “Can you keep it down, please?”

“But then I can’t sleep,” the guy replies, rather dumbly.

“What? Can’t you sleep without making a goddamn racket?” Steve asks, feeling his eyebrows knit. He is trying to solve this peacefully, he really is, but he is also tired and crummy.

“I… I invent some stuff whenever I’m not able to sleep,” the guy mutters, looking back into his apartment rather than at Steve. “Basically until I’m so tired I fall asleep.”

“Well, can’t you invent _quietly_ then?” Steve grouses.

The guy only gives him a judgementally raised eyebrow.

“How about hot cocoa?” Steve tries next. “Ever tried hot cocoa when you can’t sleep?”

“That’s for children,” comes the condescending answer.

Steve has had about enough of the discussion at that point, so he grabs the guy’s arm and drags him off, despite his victim’s protests and valiant resistance.

“It’s Steve, by the way,” he throws over his shoulder as he drags the guy into his apartment.

“What?”

“My name, it’s Steve.”

“Oh.”

* * *

 

Steve ends up making hot cocoa for both of them, and he learns that his neighbour’s name is Tony. Tony, who kind of really is a genius. With a brain so brilliant it apparently doesn’t let him sleep at night. So instead, he invents until he drops.

Tony, who for all his genius-ness is kind of dumb. In an adorable way. So the two of them end up on the sofa, chatting, discussing shallow things and deep things and having fun along the way.

The next morning, Steve wakes up with the sun shining into his face, still lying on the sofa. And Tony is kind of cuddled into his arms, his head resting under Steve’s chin.

Steve tries to gently move Tony off him onto the sofa, so he can sneak out and go to the toilet or the kitchen (he’s not sure yet what he needs more right now – the toilet or a cup of coffee), but the movement wakes Tony up.

“Oh,” he says, blinking his dark brown eyes at Steve in greeting. “I didn’t sleep with you, did I?”

“No,” Steve answers with a snarky grin, “but you slept _on_ me.”

Tony looks down at Steve’s Captain America shirt for a moment. Then he reaches out and gives one of Steve’s pecs an experimental squeezes.

“Hm, very bouncy,” is his verdict. “10/10, would do again.”

“If it keeps you quiet,” Steve says.

Tony only gives him a shameless grin.

* * *

 

Steve didn’t really think that Tony took him seriously, but then the next night arrives, and Tony is suddenly standing in front of his door.

“Pepper told me I should bring you something,” Tony says instead of a greeting, shoving a huge bag full of greasy, sugary donuts into Steve’s arms. He then neatly circumvents him, scampers over to the sofa and plops down on it. After finding a comfortable position (basically taking up all the space), he turns towards Steve, looking at him with a hopefully and way-too-innocent expression. Steve quietly notices that the mess of Tony’s hair is slightly more controlled today, and that the dirty spots on his cheeks and clothes are gone. He also notices that Tony cleans up _very_ nicely.

“I’d like to sleep on a bed, thank you very much,” Steve announces, stepping into the kitchen to unload the giant bag of donuts.

“Yay, bed!” Tony shouts, jumping off the sofa and running into the only other room in the apartment.

By the time Steve arrives in his own bedroom, Tony has already hogged the bed, the blanket and the pillow.

“The pillow is mine,” Steve grumbles, pulling it out from underneath Tony. “Bring your own.”

“I have you for that,” Tony grins, cuddling into Steve’s side as soon as Steve has as much as touched the mattress.

Steve hopes Tony can’t hear his heart pounding. But he probably can’t because he’s asleep in less than five minutes.

* * *

 

It becomes sort of a habit after that. When Steve goes to bed, Tony is invariably there. After a while, Tony doesn’t even bother to wait until he gets invited in; he just turns up in Steve’s apartment, expecting to be coddled. It really shouldn’t be as stupidly cute as it is. But Steve is sleeping well, and Tony is sleeping well, so everything is okay. It’s the best solution for the noise problem that Steve could have ever imagined.

Until the day Tony doesn’t turn up.

And then the next.

And the next.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve tries to persuade himself that he doesn’t feel let down by Tony’s sudden disappearance. Or lonely, for that fact. He has Bucky, and he has Sam and Peggy and a lot of other people who care for him. And it was to be expected that Tony wouldn’t turn up anymore, one day. It wasn’t like they had an agreement. Tony probably found someone else, someone better; a nice, soft-spoken woman with long hair and a lovely bosom. Everything Steve isn’t and hasn’t.

And now that he thinks about it, it is kind of strange, the whole thing. They slept next to each other every night for what, three months? Then had coffee and donuts in the morning and went their own ways during the day. And in the evening, sooner or later, Tony would invariably sneak into his bed.

Sometimes they would talk aimlessly, or when Tony wasn’t particularly tired yet, he would make horrible jokes and see which ones made Steve laugh. When Steve finally surrendered, he would crinkle his eyes and smile a private smile as if he had just discovered the secret of the universe and wasn’t willing to share. Sometimes, they would just lie there quietly, Tony cuddled to his side. Steve would enjoy Tony’s warmth, the slight tickling of his hair, his quiet breathing, until he finally slipped off into a deep, restful sleep.

And nothing ever happened.

He wonders when he has started to think of Tony wriggling into his bed as home.

* * *

 

It’s another night without Tony, and another night without sleep for Steve. At first, Steve found a little bit of solace in the pillow that Tony had brought down with him one day and that had become a fixed part of Steve’s bed ever since.

But by now, Tony’s smell is gone and the pillow is just a pillow. All that reminds Steve that Tony has ever been here is the gaudy Captain America pillow cover that definitely wasn’t Steve’s choice. Tony liked to tease him with the fact that he had been wearing a Cap shirt when they had met for the first time, and initially, Steve resented the teasing. By now, he is willing to give _a lot_ just to hear one of Tony’s very much unfunny jokes again.

It really can’t go on like this, Steve decides. That wallowing in his own misery thing is a bit too much like a teenage crush, and he is, after all, an adult. So he musters a bit of courage, and once again steps into a pair of sweatpants and treks up to room 505. After a moment of hesitation, he tries knocking, as steadily and confidently as he can. There is no answer. He knocks again. But again, the only thing greeting him is eerie silence. Is Tony ignoring him? Is that his way of telling him that he has tired of Steve and wants to be left alone?

Steve firmly shakes his head after a moment of doubt. No. No matter what, Tony is not the type to simply cut someone off without a word. When Tony dislikes something, he is _very_ vocal about his dislike. And he never, not once, kept a lid on his emotions around Steve. At least as far as Steve can tell.

With a heavy heart, he returns to his own apartment and writes Tony a short note. Just something along the lines of ‘ _Hey, I haven’t seen you around lately, are you doing okay?_ ' Nothing too complicated or intrusive. With the note in hand, he heads down to the mailboxes to drop it into Tony's. When he finds the mailbox for apartment 505, however, he notices two things. First, there is no name on the box. Second, the box is currently overflowing with letters and advertisements.

Steve’s mind is whirring. That can only mean two things. Either Tony is dead (he’s not even going to consider that possibility) or Tony is not living here anymore.

Steve keeps staring at the mailbox for a while as if it could maybe tell him something. This had been his last hope, and now that it is gone, he really has to face the fact that this is the end. Tony is gone.

It feels like Steve’s heart is breaking, but that’s silly. It wasn’t even like they were friends. They were just two people with a bit of a special arrangement to be able to sleep at night.

And yet, the fact that Tony has left him without saying goodbye hurts unexpectedly much.

* * *

 

Steve is in a shitty mood. Work was more exhausting today, especially since he got reamed out even though the whole problem with the order sheets wasn’t his fault. On the contrary, he had only tried to sort out what someone else had screwed up. He knows that it was only because he was at the right place at the right time, but he can’t get over the fact of how unfair the whole thing is.

So he stomps home in a huff after his shift has finally ended, determined to go to bed and sleep and forget about all his problems for a while. _All_ of them.

When he unlocks the front door of his apartment, he notices immediately that the light in his bathroom is on. For a moment, he tries to remember whether he maybe he forgot to switch it off before he left in the morning. But then a weird noise comes out of the bathroom, and Steve just sees red. He’s been in a bad mood all day already, and now, _someone is in his apartment._

In two quick strides, he has reached the bathroom door and rips the door open, ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind.

He retreats about as quickly as he has advanced, because the smell inside the bathroom is _disturbing_. And it’s no one else but Tony currently hanging over his toilet bowl, puking his soul out of his body, it seems.

Steve is… flabbergasted. Confused. Not sure if he isn’t hallucinating. But he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t hallucinate that kind of pungent smell.

He mentally readies himself and steps into the bathroom once more, carefully trying not to start gagging himself. Once he has reached the toilet, he kneels down next to Tony, gently placing a hand on Tony’s back and rubbing a little.

“Tony,” he whispers, because for all of his shitty mood, it’s _Tony_. The one person he hadn’t expected to find in his apartment.

Tony gags a few times, but it seems that his stomach is already empty, and nothing more will come out.

“Steve,” he eventually mumbles. “I can’t do this, Steve.”

And then he starts sobbing uncontrollably.


	3. Chapter 3

The smell had already tipped Steve off, but now that he is sitting right next to Tony, the fact that Tony is very, very drunk is undeniable. Other than his uncontrolled crying, he seems to be relatively okay though, and Steve is just honestly glad that he doesn’t have to rush Tony to a hospital right now.

He starts undressing Tony, because his trousers and especially his shirt have suffered a lot during Tony’s drunk venture. It’s gross enough that Steve doesn’t even consider washing it and throws the clothes into the trash immediately. He leaves Tony alone for a moment to go and get some of his old clothes. When he comes back, Tony is still sitting in exactly the same spot, curled into himself and crying inconsolably.

He has lost weight, Steve realises. Tony has always been rather lean, but not in an unhealthy way. You could see that he was used to physical exercise and that he wasn’t the type to put on a lot of bulk, like Steve was. Now, however, he is definitely skinny, in a way that makes his shoulder bones stand out almost painfully. The sight gives Steve a sudden urge to wrap Tony into a soft blanket and make sure he is going to be okay. Well, that is actually what he has in mind, so there.

He carefully places Tony in the shower and cleans up most of the grime. He wipes him off and dresses him into Steve’s too-big clothes. Tony lets it all happen, not moving of his own volition at all, his body limp like a rag doll’s. At some point, Tony stops crying, but the silence is almost more unnerving than the crying had been.

Steve has to carry him to bed.

He tries to get some food and drink into Tony, but after a few sips of water, Tony’s eyes simply slide shut and he falls asleep halfway leaned on Steve.

* * *

 

By dawn, Steve has reached an unprecedented low point. He is still irked because of work yesterday, he wasn’t able to sleep last night, worried that something might happen to Tony if he fell asleep, and he can’t help but torture himself with different scenarios of why Tony suddenly left and why he is back so unexpectedly.

Eventually, finally, Tony starts stirring. His movements are slow and Steve thinks he might be suffering from a really nasty headache, judging from the sharp crease in between Tony’s brows. Silently, Steve hands Tony some crackers, a glass of water and some pain killers. Tony listlessly nibbles at the crackers, quickly downs the water and one of the pills, and drops back down onto the bed, eyes closed.

“Don’t do that ever again,” Steve interrupts the silence after a few minutes.

“Which part?” Tony asks, his voice sounding horribly broken. The crying, Steve assumes.

“The part where you get horribly drunk and puke everything you have inside your body into my toilet and then make me take care of you because you can’t,” Steve tells him, unable to keep a sharp tone out of his voice. “I should probably be grateful you made it to the toilet. Although you would’ve had to sleep in front of that toilet if it hadn’t been for me.”

“Knew you’d come,” Tony mumbles, putting one of his arms over his eyes. Steve is not in the mood to coddle him right now, though.

“Why are you even here?” Steve inquires.

“I missed you,” Tony answers, as if that explained everything.

“Where where you, then?” Steve continues his interrogation. He just had a horrible night, he thinks he is allowed to dig a little.

“Home,” Tony laconically replies. He is quiet for a moment, but then his face scrunches up and he starts crying again.

* * *

 

Steve ends up cradling Tony in his arms and gently sway him back and forth, despite his earlier bad mood. It’s kind of difficult to stay mad when someone is so obviously desolate and despairing. His shoulder gets wet after a while, but compared to the rest, it doesn’t bother him much anymore.

Steve doesn’t really know what to do, so he just waits.

Tony eventually starts to talk about what has happened. He tells Steve about the sudden call, him being rushed to the hospital without actually understanding what had happened, him standing in front of his dead parents and being asked whether he could identify them or not. He could. He broke down later, but he had to see what had been left of his parents.

And suddenly, everyone wanted a piece of him. He had been just another student until that day, mostly concerned with graduating from university. And now, he was the heir to a multi-billion dollar corporation, expected to behave like it and to seamlessly take over the business from his parents.

He had to make a show of his parents’ funeral. He had to say things he didn’t mean, he had to laud his father for being such an excellent man, when really he had been a horrible father and an abusive husband.

By that point, Steve has to shush Tony, because he has been getting louder and louder with every sentence until he is screaming every word as if it is tearing him apart. Steve guesses that that is probably the case. He knows that pain, too.

He starts dropping kisses onto the crown of Tony’s head, because he doesn’t really know what else he is supposed to do. There is nothing he can do, because there is nothing that can make it better. The pain is there whether you want it or not. Tony doesn’t seem to mind Steve’s helplessness, though, he only clings to him for dear life.

“I can’t do this, Steve,” he eventually mumbles into the front of Steve’s shirt.

“You can,” Steve assures him. Steve is absolutely sure that he does, because he is absolutely sure that Tony is much stronger than Tony gives himself credit for.

“I can’t, Steve,” Tony disagrees. “I mean, I have Pepper and Rhodey, and they’ve been supporting me in every way they possibly can. But then I come back into that big, empty house in the evening and I can’t sleep. And when I sleep, I keep having nightmares. How can I tell someone about that? I’m supposed to be an adult. So I drink and I think of you until I fall asleep. I never slept badly when you were around.”

“There’s nothing wrong with saying that’s you’re not doing well, you know,” Steve tells Tony, gently rubbing his back. “And if you’re not, you always have a place here. You left your pillow.”

Tony doesn’t reply to that, but he clings to Steve a little harder.

* * *

 

The blanket is being lifted up and a whiff of cool air hits Steve right where his shirt has slipped up. Tony quickly clambers into the bed, sticking his cold hands under Steve’s shirt, sighing pleasurably when Steve’s body heat starts warming him up. Steve, woken up just after he had finally fallen asleep, isn’t so happy about it.

But, he reminds himself, having a wiggling, sniggering Tony right next to him is totally worth the disturbance. Pepper’s intense scrutiny, Rhodey’s unconcealed shovel speech, really bad nights, setbacks, nosy media folks; all worth it. 

“Hey, Steve,” Tony greets him. Steve grumbles something unintelligible, because honestly, he wants to sleep right now.

“Come on, Steeeeebe,” Tony whines until Steve finally cracks open an eye. “Have you ever thought about moving, Steve?”

“I don’t have the money to move, Tony,” Steve mumbles into his pillow.

“Yeah, buuut I have a house full of empty rooms. Scratch that, I have a giant bedroom with a queen size bed,” Tony offers, poking Steve’s cheek.

“What do you need a queen size for?” Steve sleepily wonders. “You end up sleeping on top of me anyway.”

“It’s the thought that counts, silly,” Tony smiles. “So? What do you say?”

Steve knows what Tony is doing. Tony knows that Steve is not really up to any discussions when he is sleepy, so he always waits for these moments to get his way. Steve, frankly, doesn’t care.

“As long as you’re there,” he says, pulling Tony down to place a kiss right on top of his nose. Tony scrunches his nose, but he is smiling broadly.

“Always,” he promises, getting comfortable in Steve’s embrace.


	4. On A Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with some additional fluff!

It's almost the end of autumn now and while the streets are still littered with dried leaves, the trees are almost bare. Winter will come soon, but right now, it is not quite cold enough yet to turn the rain pattering on the window into snow.

The gloomy and cold weather makes Steve very unwilling to even stick one single toe out of his wonderfully warm and comfortable blanket nest. There are a few things he needs to do later today, his work has been accumulating recently, but for now, he's planning to indulge himself.

So he buries himself deeper into his blanket nest, hiding away from the world. Tony, who has been dozing next to him, sits up, careful to not destroy the nest, and leans over to press a smiling kiss to the side of Steve's neck.

“Hey, lazy bear,” he greets. “Not getting up?”

“Noo,” Steve whines into the pillow. “It's cold and gloomy outside.”

That makes Tony laugh quietly, but he still snuggles back into Steve's side, sticking his hands under Steve's shirt and stroking whatever skin he can reach lightly. It's a habit now, and Steve really can't bring himself to mind. Instead, he hums, pleased by the attention, and lets his eyes fall shut again.

“Have I ever told you,” Tony whispers into Steve's ear, “that I really, really love you?”

“You haven't,” Steve replies after a moment of silence, opening his eyes. “But I know it anyway.”

He leans forward and places a kiss on the crown of Tony's head. “Do you know how much _I_ love _you_?” he adds with a grin. “Sooooooo much.”

Tony giggles a little and gives Steve's stomach a gentle squeeze.

“That's so unromantic,” he complains, looking up at Steve with an exaggerated pout while trying hard not to break out into laughter. “You should be singing praises about my beauty and intellect.”

“I guess you're not that horrible to look at,” Steve replies with a mock-serious expression, pinching Tony's cheek. “And sometimes you even remember that wet towels don't belong on the floor.”

“I'll have you know that I'm a genius and people are standing in line to get the chance to marvel at my looks from up close,” Tony huffs, now pouting for real. It makes him look a bit like a hamster and really shouldn't be as adorable as it is. Not that Steve would ever tell Tony that.

“How terrible that I'm so unappreciative,” Steve intones dramatically. Tony can't help it and breaks out into laughter, giving Steve another squeeze.

“Maybe I should go look for someone a little more appreciative of my assets,” Tony muses after he has calmed down a little.

“Yeah, tell me how that went,” Steve teases and closes his eyes unceremoniously.

“Aren't you worried? I'm really going to find one!” Tony threatens him.

“You really wouldn't, because they aren't me,” Steve answers lightly, not bothering to point out that Tony still has his hands tucked under Steve's shirt and keeps on petting him. “And I'd be lonely without you.”

“So?” Tony persists.

“So we'd both be unhappy and pining,” Steve carries on. “And I didn't like that the first time around. No need for a second round of moping.” He takes one of Tony's hand from where they are still tucked under his shirt and starts peppering it with small kisses. “And of course you're beautiful and brilliant, Tony. Bright like a shining star. Precious like the most exquisite of diamonds. Scorching like fire, and just as life-giving.”

That makes Tony squirm and try to pull his hand away, but now that Steve has started, he won't let go.

“You wanted me to be romantic,” Steve comments with a grin, carefully placing a kiss on each fingertip.

“You bypassed romantic entirely and went right for sappy and gross,” Tony complains, cheeks now a burning red.

“But nothing else does you justice,” Steve says, and while he is smiling, he is absolutely certain that it is the truth. For all his haughty talk, Tony really has no idea how precious he is to Steve. How important Tony is to a lot of people, not only him. So Steve has made it his duty to sporadically remind Tony of that fact. “I love you, my little star.”

Tony tries to turn and hide the blush on his face, but Steve catches him and gives him a big smooch on his cheek.

“You goof!“ Tony exclaims, but it is half-heartedly. He doesn't struggle when Steve gives him a kiss on the tip of his nose and actually reaches out for Steve when Steve lingers one second too long before kissing him on the mouth.

For a little while, the world is blissfully confined to the four corners of their bed, to Tony's hands in Steve's hair and Steve's arms around Tony's waist. The feeling of contentment is so all-consuming, Steve thinks he might actually have blanked out for a moment or two somewhere in the middle.

“Thank you for coming back for me,“ he manages to whisper against Tony's mouth after a while.

“Thank you for keeping me,“ Tony whispers back.

They are probably one of those extremely irritating couples that make everyone around them gag, Steve figures. But he can't really bring himself to care. He has found something others might look for their whole life, and he isn't dumb enough to carelessly forfeit that chance. He almost missed it once, and he had bitterly regretted it.

So instead, he kisses Tony a little more, whispers a few more ridiculous-yet-true things into Tony's ears and ignores the grey world outside the windows. Not every day will allow for lazy cuddling in bed, and not every day will allow for gentle words to be spoken.

But today, Steve can, so he does. He kisses the blush from Tony's cheeks and gets kissed in return and every touch and every kiss feels like a blessing just for the two of them.

At some point, the rain stops and the sun comes out.

The raindrops on the window glass sparkle like diamonds.

Neither of them notices.


End file.
